Recounting the Storms and the Slender Man
by Vanessa S. Quest
Summary: Experimental writing, chapter 3 of a short saga based on the created urban legend of the Slender Man.
1. Introductions to Urban Folklore

There is a fine line between delirium and dying, neither are particularly pleasant.

Reid startled to consciousness on the floor, he could have sworn before he was sitting somewhere. His body shivered despite being coated with sweat, the overall sense of nausea hit him hard and he'd have sworn up and down the bricks that made up the walls that confined him were moving, almost identically to a lava lamp.

He rolled from his back to his side and vomited. He didn't think he'd be able to physically get up to drag himself to the hole stationed at the corner of one of the dynamic walls. After what must have been an eternity, he let out a raspy cry, "…Hello…? Is anyone there…? I… I really need some help!"

He clenched his eyes shut. He wasn't lying, by the way his stomach felt warm to the touch he suspected the cause. A small gash no more than two inches long but deep adorned his taut midriff. At first it had been very painful, however long ago that was by now, but now? Now it just felt hot. Hot and wet. Sallowed eyes with purplish bags beneath were the most color on his face, despite a soft pink blush that crept across his cheeks. Then again, with as dim the light was, it would be hard to notice. He panted out once more, "Hello!"

"Reid!" It was a hushed tone, which concerned him because he was certain the owner of that voice had never used a hushed tone in his entire life. He supposed he might be slightly inaccurate with that description. "Reid, can you hear me?"

Reid turned his head to follow the sound, he knew the voice to be that of his boss and lover Hotch, but as he was unable to see the body, he felt concerned. Instead he saw a small drain.

"Reid you have to stay quiet or else he'll come back."

He closed his eyes, winced them shut then reopened them to focus on the drain. Inside it, he could see Hotch, but as the small drain was only three inches in diameter at best, he knew it couldn't really be his lover… even if it did sound like him. Reid belly-crawled closer to the drain to inspect it, as he reached the drain he could see simultaneously the drop of pipe and the shrunken face of his lover as it perfectly filled the dimension.

"…Oh this is not good…" Reid muttered to himself and debatably to his hallucination.

"Definitely true, Reid you have to irrigate your wound, it's getting infected."

Reid blinked at his hallucination of his boss, his absolutely correct boss, which unnerved him. Reid was usually the one with those sorts of answers, not the others on his team.

"I don't have any way to…"

"Sure you do, you just have to make it rain."

Reid closed his eyes and shook his head, even for non-sense that was fairly random. He expected his hallucinations in fits of delirium to at least try to be more helpful. He rolled back onto his back, it would probably be best to ignore that hallucination for now, anyway. Or so he thought, until he saw the sprinkler over-head. His eyes went wide.

How long had he been in the room? His mind clearly fed these small details to his subconscious which was driving his delusions to have more accurate information than they should have… he wished he could think, but everything was just too damned sore, hot, or heavy to let him. And yet, for things to feel so warm he felt like he was freezing.

With a touch to his wound to feel out it's edges, his body let out an involuntary scream. He panted a few moments to re-collect himself. He really wished he remembered how the hell he got into this situation, but before that, he had to make it rain, didn't he? Reid took off his belt which proved to be a challenge of drunken hand motions before he could even pull at the clasp. He knew the next part of this would be the worst part, the part where he stood up again.

"I haven't stood up in 29 hours…" He mentioned to no one, vaguely he realized that he was correct, but he had no idea why. With several very loud pops and cracks, he stood up, almost immediately, he fell half-into a nearby wall, he caught his nose and was rewarded with a gush of red.

His arm hoisted him further up the wall anyway, and he tossed the belt at it. Genuinely shocked, Reid connected with the first toss. He smiled, until he realized that wasn't even the first half of the way there. So, with all of his weight on the belt, he hoped and he prayed the nozzle his buckle was stuck to would turn, when he found that it did give about a quarter-turn, he was met with a steady bead of liquid as it poured down into the room.

He knew there was no way to actually retrieve his belt for now, so he opted to let it stay there as he laid below the leak of water to flush his wound. He lifted his shirt away, the canvas of lake-blues and purples were unnerving, but he vaguely recalled how he got at least five of the larger ones.

Cold made contact with hot, and a sting that felt worse than being stabbed ripped through his core. He turned his head away, almost certain the blood he saw drain from the wound was a tarry black instead of the varied shades of red and clear coagulated blood normally was.

As he turned back toward the drain, he could swear he saw a hand reach out, it probed for more solid ground, and then another hand came up from the same tight drainage pipe, Reid took in several shallow breaths, this couldn't be real… it was distorted, a rubber-man pulled his way half through, about to fully push his face up when Reid insisted it was not real and refused to see it. He closed his eyes tightly and told himself over and over that it wasn't there, that it couldn't be there. When he opened his eyes again, he was proven correct. The room just housed himself, bricks that seemed to move and vibrate, a drippy water-valve, a drain, and a reinforced door.

He forced himself to sit up, something he quickly regretted as his head spun around, but he knew irrigating the wound was one thing, to allow himself to become soaked was another.

"I have to remember how I got here… is anyone coming for me…?" He asked aloud, again the drain answered him.

"Of course I'm coming for you, Reid. I'm coming for you, so you have to hold on." Reid looked at the pipe unnerved. As comforted as he felt to hear Hotch, he didn't feel fond about hallucinations, regardless of assignable causality.

Reid crawled closer to the drain anyway, hallucination or not, it was Hotch. Upon his arrival, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

"You wouldn't happen to be willing to fill me in on how I got here, would you, Aaron?"

His eyes closed slightly as his hallucination started to speak with him, practically lulling him to sleep for the better part of a half-hour.

"We were sent to investigate a child abduction case, the unsub requested ransoms but made it clear he had no real will to collect them, it was just to throw us off track. After three days and increased police presence, the unexpected occurred. The missing boy walked back to his parents' house in a straight line from deep woods. He was covered in mud and pine needles, and seed pods that weren't located in that area, but he was too traumatized to actually speak with us. Whenever he tried, he spoke of the slender man, an urban legend. It was as if he was told to say those things. But we had forensics, we had the boy, and we had your geographic profile. The team walked out to where the boy had came from and you were the one to see the storm drain. With that, we worked on identifying the likely areas for a den, when we concluded which areas were most probable, we divided into teams of two and did grid searches. JJ and Rossi, Prentiss and Morgan, you and…"

"You can't be dead!" Reid's hand clapped to his mouth but it was too late, the vomit of words led to a cascade of his alimentary canal, he retched until bile came out. He locked eyes with the image of Hotch in the drain, it didn't look as pleasant this time, now it was distorted with the bloat of a three-day dead body and a bloody head-wound. Reid's eyes rolled up on him and he hit the ground hard.

Eyes half-lidded, he could see hands claw through the drain as if in some attempt to drag themselves free, or maybe they were looking to drag him down with them. If it really was Hotch down there, he couldn't say he'd mind. Instead he spotted Hotch's face, not discolored or distorted with bloat.

"Of course I'm not dead. If I were dead I wouldn't be able to come and rescue you, now would I?"

Reid's eyes attempted to focus, and as it seemed to, the image went back into the drain.

"If you're not dead, why are you in that drain…?" He said, utterly exhausted and cramped.

"Don't you want to know all of what happened to you? How you got here?"

Reid's head lolled to the side, as if he had given a nod for consent, Hotch continued to speak.

"We saw a drain in our area, we both went in, and then it started to rain. A flash rain, actually. You had found a crawl-space, my shoulders were too broad to get through, but you could manage. And then you said it, 'Hotch, I found the slender man…' I told you to come back, that it was too dangerous, I tried to pull you back, but I slipped and hit my head. When you turned around, you slipped and started to fall. You fell down about ten feet and landed in muck water with that." Hotch hinted toward Reid's gash.

"…So the slender man… he's here somewhere…"

"You can't be loud, Reid, let me talk, just listen and I'll tell you everything." Reid nodded, he heard footsteps that seemed to go past. It was odd, it wasn't one set, it must have been closer to dozens.

"When you came to, you weren't in muck water. You were in a utility room. Look around, Reid. Take a good look, this is a sewage treatment facility. You were locked in here. Someone dragged your ass here and locked you in."

Reid's eyes went wide, he looked at the face in the small drain, he looked so excited to have revealed such a thing. Nothing at all like how Hotch would look.

"…Aaron… that's not really what happened at all…" He started, but then he opted to yell again instead, as he heard steps. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP I'M IN HERE!"

For a moment he imagined he heard more steps. He looked at his surroundings more closely. Near the door were deep drag marks and puddles of fluid.

"You're filling things in for my mind… but the slender man is a myth. What that little boy saw was a body. He saw the near-skeletonized remains of someone who drowned… I slipped from the flash rain, I was knocked through a tight opening and down twelve feet of uneven cobble stones before I hit anything solid, and I did get cut, on a glass bottle. After that, I dragged myself up into the upper channel and into the access room, I closed the door because I was afraid of any debris coming in and trapping me… I've been down here for two and a half days going in and out of consciousness and feeling guilty because I thought you died when you tried to save me when I slipped… but Aaron… Aaron would never want me to just lie here like this… you… you're just a feeling of unconfirmed guilt clearly manifesting because of septicemia."

Reid's head moved from side to side, the footsteps were getting closer.

"Reid! Spencer can you hear me?"

"I'M IN HERE…" he let out as loud of a yell as he could, with his remaining energy he dragged himself closer to the metal door and banged on it. "I'M IN HERE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Reid! Thank god!" Hotch let out, "Reid keep banging, we're looking, we're looking really hard!"

Propped against the door, Reid continued to bang on it, he didn't realize his ministrations were jarring it more and more open until he saw a beam of light from a Maglite. "I'm over…" Reid hit the door twice more before his hand went limp.

He felt a powerful wave of nausea and he was certain it had something to do with the smell. His head tilted to the side where the partially dislodged body of 'the slender man' was wedged, maggots and all. He let out a gut-retching sound as he horked more pronounced than he had been able to speak the last time.

A flashlight landed on his features just as his body exorcised the last few bits of digestive content it had stored. That, by the way, had been more bile and a little blood. Head heavy, Reid allowed his forehead to rest beside his emission as he watched in strange fascination as the light zigged in a parabolic arch left, right, left, right, left- he vaguely realized it was much, much closer now.

His glossy eyes looked up to see Hotch standing there, it was inappropriate and wrong to see a Zegna suit in a place like this. He looked up at the man who looked so intently down at him before in a smooth motion he knelt down, straight into Reid's puke with his left knee, to get a good grip under Reid's neck and knees and hoist them both up.

"Ugh…" Reid mentioned as he curled toward his lover, "I feel so sick…" Reid's eyes teared up as he clutched the fabric to Hotch's suit jacket.

"I'm going to get you out of here, hold on Spencer." Was all Hotch murmured to him before he pressed the talk button on his touch-radio. "I have Reid with me, we need medical top side and CSUs down here."

"CSUs? You don't mean that son of a bitch unsub really…" Morgan started, the way his radio crackled, Reid suspected he was below-ground, searching too.

"No. It's a dead body. Probably weeks old, but it might be what the missing boy saw."

"You mean the slender man was that guy's corpse?"

"Likely, this storm drain was a straight shot from the drainage systems in the woods near the boy's house."

Hotch adjusted Reid in his arms, "You're burning up…"

"Dehydrated too… think I'm septic…" he attempted, but felt too drained to add further.

"Septic? Christ, Reid why didn't you tell me you're bleeding!" Hotch stated upon coming into more lighting. Within less than five-hundred feet Reid realized he had come across ambient sunlight. Only two major turns from where he had so hap-hazardously landed in the perpetually dark storm-drain, though he did know some light had managed to pour in from ventilation slats, or perhaps more drains.

Once outside, Hotch had Reid lying on the ground as a stretcher was brought over. His hand traveled up Reid's center searching for the exact source of the blood, Reid grabbed Hotch's hand before he could make contact.

"Don't… I'll pass out if you touch it… think I bruised my spleen on the fall too…" Reid offered, though he didn't personally feel too helpful. "…Water?"

Hotch caught a bottle that JJ pitched to him, cap already twisted off before it even reached Reid's lips, Hotch poured some to him before pulling back. "The paramedics need to load you onto that gurney, then they're going to take me with them to the nearest hospital and you are going to stay awake that entire trip, understood?"

Reid blinked and nodded at the same time. In his peripheral, he could see long, long arms, far more arachnid than human, bent and disjointed as they curled around the brick features at the mouth of the storm drain. Long, bony fingers pressed flat against the wall. He sensed movement, as if whatever had been walled off with that body was trying to move free, itself.

In the back of his mind, he supposed he could hear the way his heart was pounding, his breath became so much lighter as he focused on the peripheral specter.

Little Andrew Callahan, what had he said when he had come back? Reid knew the boy was traumatized, he also knew his auditory memory was less than phonographic.

_The Slender Man! He's real! He's really-really real! I could hear him the whole time!_

"REID!"

Reid's head jerked, eyes snapped half-open.

"Reid, you're still awake, aren't you? Like I ordered…" Hotch said, his own tone belied how worried he was versus how angry at Reid's realistic defiance to the order. But it didn't stop Reid from his attempt to focus in on the distant memory of a sound.

The walls had been moving. He was so certain of it, but he knew there wasn't enough water pressure nor were there any detectible smells from rodents to lead to that confusion.

"…Hotch… the slender man…"

Hotch looked away for a moment before he turned a hot gaze to his lover and subordinate, "Reid, you're delirious. There is no such thing, you were the one who even mentioned the urban legend…"

"Spencer, you need to calm down…" The paramedic offered, she pushed down on the fleshy portion of Reid's lower arm, a tourniquet helped her with the exact location of a larger vein as she fed in the IV. "Take deep breaths, I don't want to bag you."

Reid sent the woman a small glare then looked back in the distance, he could swear he saw a cord run to the length of the ambulance and trace all the way back to where the storm drain had to be.

"Hotch! Why won't you listen to me! You were right, he is there! He's killing people, not _just_ kids either…"

As he continued to hyperventilate, his ability to communicate (and stay awake) was becoming precariously difficult. Reid's head lolled back as he watched the corner of the ambulance as a small black spot grew and grew until a long hand started to reach through.

Almost ready to pass out, Reid locked eyes on whatever it was trying to creep in from there before he tried to sit up. Back slightly off the gurney, Reid was immediately thrust down by a strong forearm into the foam-rubber material.

"The patient's becoming combative!" The woman noted as Reid attempted to swing his arms.

"Get off me… get off me don't you see it! He's right there…" Reid managed to rub his one IV line out of his arm as he maneuvered his arms left and right, each swing a near-miss to the paramedic as she fought to put each arm into a restraint-loop.

With no range in motion for his hands, and a pessimistic fear of what the portal in the ambulance would bring him, Reid's eyes scanned the remainder of the ambulance. Hotch looked so worried, Reid wondered if maybe he saw it too, now?

"Tch! His arm's a mess…" The paramedic noted as she spotted the dislodged IV still taped to Reid's now bloody arm. She pressed a wad of gauze to it before she wrapped it with medical tape. "ETA?"

"Three more minutes… at least." Came the call from the front of the ambulance.

"Reid, you have to stay awake…" Hotch's voice sounded so far away, Reid looked back to the hole in the corner.

"Is he coming to kill me…? Is that why you all can't see him but I can…?"

"Reid, NO ONE is going to let you die, now get a hold of yourself- there's nothing there!" Hotch's voice shook with a timbre that only partly met Reid's ears.

"His core temperature is over 105.9° Fahrenheit… we need more anti-pyrogenics!"

Reid could see the slender man's threads all up and down his torso. Thin red lines radiated toward his chest, "Get them off… get them off!" He started to scream.

Hotch unbuckled his seat belt and was already in the back with Reid as the paramedic started to mark up Reid's skin with a sharpie.

"Oh this is bad…" The woman said in a hushed tone.

"What are those things…?" Hotch asked. The woman shot him a glare.

"He has acute septicemia, those red lines are his inflamed blood vessels." She took Reid's pulse and blood pressure yet again. "He's tanking on us!" She shouted back to her partner. "You, keep him talking. If he loses consciousness this could be game over."

Hotch squeezed Reid's hand. "Reid, listen to me, this is very important… you're the only one to see our unsub, this Slender Man, I need you to tell me about him, give me the profile…"

Reid's half-misted eyes attempted to lock onto Hotch's, but Hotch could see them waver as they attempted to stay focused. "He's invisible except to his victims, his reach seems unending though… that's just a metaphor, the urban legend aspect of it… I know my mind is trying to make the connections, I know, but still! Someone else was down there… the wall was moving… there was more than one body… that little boy might've been lost… but… but I'm telling you there's more corpses down there… there's a real predator I… I know it…" Reid's breathe was erratic, a small counter had it at 27 breaths per minute. Nasal canicula aside, the cyanotic look in his tinged blue-lips concerned everyone else in the ambulance aware to his circumstances. "Why… why are you letting me tell this profile in front of civilians, Hotch?" He suddenly realized.

Hotch's eyes grew for a moment, unsure where Reid would go with that knowledge in his current mind-set.

"…Oh god, I am dying… or is this delirium… I'm going to be sick…" Reid announced, again vomiting, this time instead of clear or clear with tinges of green came a splash of red coated with a thick layer of mucous-y saliva. He hacked as he tried to clear his own airways, but being strapped down made it difficult. "…I know I'm delirious, Hotch, but I still saw at least two bodies there…" He locked eyes with Hotch. "Your head…? Why don't you have a bruise…?"

"What about my head, Reid?" Hotch asked as he continued to clutch at Reid's hand.

"When I fell, didn't you reach forward and hit your head…?"

"Shoulder." Hotch tapped Reid and his enjoined hands to his opposing shoulder.

"…Three… there had to be three… One was fresh dead, two or three days, just leaving rigamortis, another body was dead for about two weeks, another dead for about a month… The body I saw when I fell was the first victim, the one you saw…? That had to be fresher…"

Hotch blanched, Reid was certain he saw the reaction.

"The slender man is the victim… the killer is the real monster hiding inside those myths. I would've been next… if he'd have heard me… I'd have fit his preferences…" Reid closed his eyes as he desperately tried to recollect if that was really why he had locked himself into the room and stayed so quiet while search efforts were occurring. His own hallucination aided his escape when he dissociated due to the fever. "Hotch… you're really smart. I know I don't say stuff like that much, but I think you are."

"Then listen to me when I tell you to open your eyes."

Reid blinked them open a few times, the lights in the ambulance felt wonky, as if going super bright then dim, momentarily he thought he might lose his vision.

"FINALLY!" The paramedic said, momentarily able to distract Reid from his thought. The fluid forward motion lurched to a halt and his body shifted uncomfortably.

"Reid, you're doing great, the doctors are going to take care of you." Hotch mentioned. His thumb traced the center of Reid's palm before he pulled back and took out his phone.

From so far away, he could swear he heard Hotch ask the CSUs what they found. By the way his tone shifted, he'd say it wasn't good.

TBC.


	2. Reconcile the Past with the Sandman

A steady sentinel against any mythological Slender Men that may or may not approach the hospital, Hotch stood outside the ER doors with his cellphone firmly pressed to his ear.

"They've found HOW MANY bodies?" Hotch's voice was fierce.

"At least four. It might be more, there were skeletal remains. They have to put that back together to be sure."

"What about in the room Reid locked himself in? What did they find?"

"Man, the room was EMPTY. There was nothing in there."

Hotch paused for a moment, he looked at a dark spot on his shirt that literally bled into the wooly exterior of his suit jacket. "They didn't find anything? No hair, no drag marks, no blood? Nothing?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

Hotch glowered, "Morgan, I held Reid for maybe three minutes before I set him down, my shirt's stained. Three minutes. Do the math, there's no way he was in that room for 3 days and DIDN'T leave evidence in there, now either they're missing something or they're in the wrong room!"

"Isn't there another option, Hotch?" Morgan suggested, his tone cynical.

"If you're about to blame this on the Slender Man I'm enforcing a mandatory leave of absence on the entire team because clearly you're all overworked if you're believing urban legends as viable leads."

"Hey, you and I both know several of those were potential victims who got lucky. That crying baby routine happened, but that's not the point. The point is the room Reid was in wasn't locked down while we ran a grid search. Someone could have gotten in and cleaned up."

Hotch's eyebrow ticked upward. "Are you seriously telling me the police didn't guard the area?"

"Hotch, it's a sewer, do you really think they thought people would be IN there?"

"Yes, Morgan, yes I would when I sent my own teammates down to look for the den of a predator, I'd say that made it apparent!"

Morgan let out a sigh, "Well that makes two of us, but still, this entire profile is wrong and we know it. That kid wasn't kidnapped, but those bodies didn't just get there, one was stabbed and one was drowned. They can't even tell for the others, but saying we didn't find a long list of locals missing here, I'd say these guys are getting here somehow."

"Garcia ran a search earlier for men ages 20 to 60 who worked with sewage treatment after we saw the storm drains, before she limited it with men with deviances towards children on record. Have her do it again, this time without that last parameter, have her search for any violent crime or sexual assault, exclude men with a history of violence toward women. This unsub doesn't target _women_."

"JJ's dialing for me now. Hotch- how is he?" Morgan said before his boss could disconnect.

"He's alive, and that's something."

Morgan nodded, though he knew Hotch couldn't hear that as a response he added for his benefit, "You're right. We'll celebrate that victory until he gives us the next one."

"Morgan, as a witness…" Hotch let out a sigh, "He's useless as a witness. We can't rely on his testimony at all. It's all over the map, he was delusional, and even if he saw something… it's too tripped up in talks about the Slender Man to be rendered viable. I'm pulling him from the case immediately and putting him on medical leave."

"Hotch… don't you think you should at least wait for him to get back on his feet before making that call? I mean, pulling him from the case _completely_?"

He bit his tongue, he didn't want to outright say it, but it didn't matter. He cleared his throat, Morgan almost thought it sounded like a dry laugh but nothing could be that funny in these circumstances. _'Hotch… you're really smart. I know I don't say stuff like that much, but I think you are.'_ Reid was right.

A long, long time ago, a LEO had once asked Hotch if he honestly thought Reid was right _all_ the time, it was one of the few times he ever was brutally honest and to a LEO no less. _'Hell no, but he's still right this time.' _Hotch wasn't so sure about this time though.

It took forty-three minutes, the least time Hotch had ever spent waiting at a hospital to date, for Reid to be moved from ER entry to 'stabilized' and checked in as an intensive care patient. As he entered Reid's room, he noticed the man was unconscious- he hoped the snore was a direct side effect of bandages on his nose, because honestly, he liked how Reid was a quiet sleeper, even if he did move a lot.

He entered before he did something that he was sure the staffers had also done at least three times, he pulled at the edge of Reid's hospital garb to reveal the red lines that he had seen over his abs before. A purple sharpie indicated that the red lines were losing grounds, Hotch was sure the seemingly dozens of IVs hooked up on an IV rack to Reid's right side were to blame. A nurse came in, apparently intent to do the same before Hotch asked her point blank, "Why is he unconscious? Did they give him something?"

The woman shook her head, "They didn't have to. When you mix that many high-powered antibiotics and sepsis, his body clocked out before they finished the first stitch."

"Antibiotic?"

"All intravenous. He'll need to be here for at least three days."

"He said he thought his spleen was bruised, did they check that?"

"Agent Hotchner, right? He was given an x-ray from the portable unit, there's no bone damage or shows of hemorrhage, you said he fell twelve feet, right?"

Hotch gave a tight nod as his reply.

"Problem is, those bruises aren't indicative of that at all. Those are from _fist-falls_."

Hotch's brow tightened in a momentary twitch. "You mean he was physically struck?"

"A succession of about fifteen hard hits, he might have been clocked with a glass bottle for some of them, his one bleeding wound is definitely from a smashed bottle though. I'd say a third of the rim of a bottle of beer by the looks of it." She gave him a very focused look, "You said you witnessed his fall?"

"I was with him, but the angle I was in didn't give me room to see much, and it was dark."

"I'll say this, and I do so with twelve years of domestic abuse care under my belt. He didn't fall down anything. He was pulled by someone and then he was beat. Then he was tossed into something unsanitary in a bad way."

"Can you tell me how you came by that assessment? I need to write this down, and then I'll need you to sign it."

"Absolutely, the most telling part is this bruise here on the clavicle, it wraps around to the back and fits the size of a hand. That was the pull, probably. The subdue-hold was around the diaphragm, probably kept him short of breath until he started to really get wailed on. There's another hit to the clavicle and shoulder, a jab to the stomach and broader strikes up the chest and abdomen, could have been by a bottle or maybe a foot or knee. Odd part is, I think he was stabbed first. The bruises on his arms correlate with a person curling into the injury there, not fending off more blows. Ready for me to sign that?"

Hotch handed her the sheet of paper.

"Yep, that's about what I said." She signed it and dated it, "One more thing though. When you find the son of a bitch who did that to him, ask him if he knew my kid brother Tommy." She looked away, "He went missing 12 years ago after his boyfriend sent him home looking an awful lot like that, except he also broke his arms in three places."

"You wouldn't happen to have that ex's name, would you?" Hotch asked flatly.

"I would, but that snake used an alias and skipped town shortly after my brother disappeared."

"I'd still like that alias if you have it."

"Bastard said his name was Peter Parker. You know who that is? Fucking Spider Man."

The woman clapped her hand to her mouth, "Sorry about my language. Anyway, I have to get back to my rounds."

Hotch looked back down toward Reid, "You've got to be kidding me, Reid… I have no forensics, clashing testimonials, an expert witness with a vendetta, and you're not even going to give me a hint..."

A long snore followed by two shorter ones was all the answer Hotch got.

"Gee, thanks." Hotch brushed at Reid's bangs before he drew his phone to his ear. "Garcia, what do you have?"

"Over two thousand words in my vocabulary dedicated to male anatomy, enough caffeine to make me launch into orbit and the name of seventeen sleaze-bags I never want to meet in person."

"Only seventeen? Well, you're doing better than most." Hotch said, he almost sounded like he smiled, he squeezed Reid's hand. "Any of them ever happen to use the alias Peter Parker?"

"Spider Man? Why would you take something like that from me, sir? That's just unkind! Peter Parker, beloved friend to many closet and not-so-closet intellectuals, that's the boy Cinderella of my peers!"

"Garcia." It was sharp enough to snap her from her rant. He had to admire that Garcia could be snapped from hers, Reid would normally just get lost in his own until it played out enough to get his attention.

"Right… no, but one does have a Benjamin Scarlet."

"…Garcia, the relevance?"

"Benjamin Scarlet was an alternate universe's real Peter Parker, but convinced that he was the clone and not the 'real' Peter Parker, he took the other name, changed his hair color up and still saved the day."

"So he's a comic book fan and…?"

"And a guy who likes to take home bar-room brawls. He has three separate assaults on file, only one ever was prosecuted, but the victim refused to testify. Apparently he slings bottles instead of webs."

"…Where is he now, Garcia?"

"That's where I give the bad news. He hasn't had a real address for the past six months, he was on parole two years ago, apparently the jury didn't need to hear the victim tell his story, but he only got 1 year in jail and 1 year probation. He changed his address legally to a PO Box and he stopped paying rent at his old place. He does have a cellphone though and I'll see if I can run a trap and trace. I'll call you with the results. Garcia out!"

Upon the disconnect, Hotch realized Reid had stopped his snores and had even managed to wake up a bit.

"There you are." He said with a smile to the figure in the bed. "How do you feel Reid?"

Reid pouted as he pondered. After a long moment he offered up, "Confused… Can't say I like it. Also really, really sore, and I feel like I'm hung over. Today's Thursday, right? I haven't lost track of time, have I?"

"No, you're right. It's Thursday."

"You and I were looking for the potential den of a kidnapper, and I stumbled across the den of a serial killer… by the sounds of your conversation with Garcia." Reid admitted, "Because, try as I might, all I can really remember from this morning is falling asleep the night before thinking I was probably going to die today."

Hotch squeezed Reid's hand and pulled him into an embrace.

"…There were bodies down there with me. But it all jumps around and I can't make sense of it, it's not even like a wrong sequence, it's the entire signal feels scrambled. I remember being in a room I locked myself into and then I remember turning around and there were human remains stuffed inside pipes and drains…"

His eyes shot large, "There was the sound of a jack-hammer. This constant sound of a jack-hammer going into the wall for hours, the wall shook and dust kept dropping then it just stopped…"

Reid looked down at his body, "Where are my clothes?"

"You're in a hospital…"

"I didn't ask that. I asked where my _clothes_ are!"

Hotch gave Reid an uneven look. "Currently, they're in evidence. The forensics team found the room you were in before we heard you, and it was a complete wash. There was nothing."

"…How is that possible? Aaron, what about my belt?"

"You weren't wearing one when you were brought in."

"I know that, but I was wearing one three days ago." Reid stopped, his hand hovered in the air as if physically he could reach into his memory and pull out the exact thought needed. "When you tried to steady me, you grabbed my belt, but you grabbed the loose end, not the fastened end."

Hotch focused his eyes, he had.

"I used to belt to reach a pipe. I didn't get it down, but if someone did, they might have left prints behind."

"I'll have the CSUs check that."

"Have them tear up the drainage. I think there's a trap in it and there were phalanges in there. Were any of the victims dismembered? Because I think he might do that to wash it away."

Hotch's eyes widened, the thought of Reid with someone who would do such a thing was hard to admit. Unable to defend himself in the condition he had found him in… then again, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. Reid did make it out alive.

Reid looked out the window, the sun was starting to set and his chest heaved several short breaths, "…I…" He swallowed thickly and looked at his lover and hoped the man caught his distress.

"I'm not leaving you here alone." Hotch pressed his thumb to the bottom of Reid's lower lip. "I am not leaving you here alone in the dark, I am not leaving you here unprotected, and I most certainly am not leaving you here to work on this case by yourself. You're off it, by the way."

Reid smiled, "Well, isn't the case technically closed anyway? Andrew Callahan was a lost little boy."

"Then you realize the only thing we can investigate here is the assault of a federal agent."

"Until the police ask you to join the investigation that is," Reid sparred.

"It's not going to happen and you're going to have to accept it. You can't be in on this case, Reid. Some of your testimony is right, but a majority of it doesn't back the physical evidence."

"I can still help you profile though. And the geographic profile. You don't use a jack-hammer in a storm-drain. There's just no reason for it unless you're taking out individual bricks. He's making them into a mausoleum. He damages then watched his intended victim die probably from infection knowing they're trapped. He watches them die because he likens himself to a spider and then he stores the remains in some secret treasure trove so he can feed on the memory. He dismembers them so they're easier to put behind bricks. I was either an unexpected bonus or… I don't know if he was preparing to add me to his wall or if it was for another body. I don't know how ahead of it he stays, but Hotch… I do know there is no way- not a one- that I am sleeping with the lights off."

Hotch pulled Reid into a kiss. "Don't worry about it. All I need to go to sleep is you near me."

It took Reid a moment to realize that Hotch did in fact look haggard. "You …didn't sleep these past few days, have you?"

Hotch smiled, "How could I? I didn't know where you were. I told you my conditions."

A soft smile played itself across Reid's lips and he glanced at a visitor's lounge chair. "Well then, I think we're in about as close of a proximity as the hospital's going to readily allow. Think we can catch a nap?"

"Go ahead, beautiful. I'll wait up." Hotch gave a solemn, unfaltering nod, his eyes indicated that was the end-all of the argument. Reid was already out, probably still too exhausted to even grasp the implications of Hotch's words.

Around 2 AM, Hotch had started to nod off in the chair when a scream caught him entirely off guard, he flew up from the chair, his eyes scanned the room as his hand made its way to his Glock from his shoulder holster. He stopped when he realized Reid was in the middle of a nightmare, his eyes wide open. He realized suddenly that it was very dark in the room, ambient light from an outdoor streetlamp had been the only thing to allow him to view Reid's features. He assumed that with how shadows worked, it was strictly his advantage.

"Reid, Reid it's me, Hotch. You're okay, you're in a hospital, that's all. That's it…"

Reid was fending off imaginary blows to his center, he tried to curl away from perceived attacks as he screamed and Hotch was momentarily certain he bore witness to the attack of one Dr. Spencer Reid. By the end, Hotch was at his side, he attempted to ease Reid back to the bed with minimal success.

"Shh, shh, Spencer, I'm here… it's a dream, a nightmare. It's over now, so wake up."

"What's that sound…" Reid asked no one, Hotch didn't hear anything except the accelerated metronome of Reid's heart-rate play out in the background. "…Is that a power saw…?" His eyes darted back and forth, the more they did the more he realized where he was, when he saw Hotch, with a hand on his shoulder, he shot up from the bed and fell to the ground in a messy clatter of tangled IVs, monitors, and grievous pain to his tailbone as he backed himself to the wall.

Hotch tried to find recognition in Reid's eyes, but all he could see was fear. He approached slowly, "Reid! Are you alright? It's Aaron, it's me, Spencer… it's _me_."

He spotted his own shadow fall over his arm, to Reid in the night, in the shadow, without his glasses, he must look like some faceless specter. He turned the bedside lamp on before he swooped in. Reid was shaking, he pulled Hotch closer as his fingers raked through his lover's hair and he closed his eyes desperate to will away the last few minutes from his mind.

"Aaron… Aaron… Aaron…" He seemed to chant to remind himself of where he really was.

"Spencer, you need to get back into the bed, I can help you."

Reid nodded. "When you catch him… I want to sit in on the interview."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "No."

"…He did this to _me_, he knows he won't be able to deny anything if I'm in there." Reid suggested.

"It's not an option." Hotch said again more firmly. "I'm not about to let him get his rocks off imagining making you his last victim. I refuse."

Reid looked down. "You could be in the room too…"

"It isn't going to happen, this discussion is over."

He let out a sigh, "He caused a schism in my mind, Hotch! How the hell is any of this 'over'? I can't remember something that I saw, Hotch- that I _saw_."

"Sometimes we just have to get over of what our minds do as coping mechanisms." Hotch crossed his arms.

"Damn it, Aaron…" He let out a long, shaky sigh, "I wish I could say you'd do it for the others, that you'd let them do it…" He looked down.

"I might have a favorite, but I still don't _play_ favorites."

TBC.


	3. Reconstitute the dream with the Bogeyman

It was 4:58 AM when Hotch was startled for a second time in the short recesses between twilight and dawn. He looked at the phone with a curious look, he realized Garcia must have pulled an all-nighter. He'd have to 'yell' at her for that, and then send her a gift certificate for coffee in appreciation.

Spencer was still in the bouts of restless fits, eyes stayed closed this time, but he was surer than his name that Reid was experiencing another nightmare.

"Garcia, did you get that trap and trace?" Hotch asked, sure that would be the direction of this phone call. He didn't expect the answer he was given by any means though.

"I ran it, but it didn't lead to anything usable. I hate when unsubs are tech-savvy and hurt my babies! They're polluting what I love to hurt the people I love, it's a double loss!"

"Try to focus, I get you're running on about as much sleep as me, but still…"

"He is, however, using Reid's phone, sir."

"He _what_?" Hotch's face went taut. He looked at Reid then excused himself to the restroom and closed the door, sure the light still fed out from the bottom and into the dark room.

"The unsub has made attempts to use Reid's phone, Rossi scanned over a copy of the evidence log from what Reid had with him and …his phone, badge, and gun weren't there. I thought it was possible that he lost his phone or something when I had originally seen it, so I checked to see if it was on… and it wasn't, I say wasn't because now it IS on and it's not anywhere near where you'd think it would be."

"The storm drain or the Callahan home…"

"Or the hospital or the hotel, or the police station. It gets worse, I checked for out-bound calls, whoever has Reid's phone used it, and not to dial some random phone-sex places, which btw is usually a first for any teenagers with sticky fingers."

"Garcia, are you tracing it?"

"Absolutely, but Hotch… there have been two calls made. You're not going to like any of them."

"Who are they to and what's it matter if we can trace him?"

"Because the first one was to your house- the good news on that was it was for 2 seconds, literally, the second one was to Bennington Sanitarium though. That one went considerably longer."

Hotch touched his forehead. "Where is his phone right now?"

"…By my best estimates, I'd say half-way to LV but I can't confirm it because I can't go through all the flight-plans just by route of travel so I have no idea if it's a cargo plane or a passenger jet."

"Call JJ, see if she can pull any strings and then call the LV office and have them find that phone!"

"Yes sir! Garcia out!"

Hotch didn't have time for a fancy goodbye, he dialed 411 because he did not have the luxury of an eidetic memory, neither in physically possessing one or having the gall to ask the man with one to spare in the room what his very ill mother's phone number was. "Information? I need to be connected to Bennington Sanitarium's emergency line, located in Las Vegas, Nevada."

Thirty-four seconds later, Hotch received the deadpan of a nurse who seemed less than thrilled to be answering the phone.

"My name is SSAIC Aaron Hotchner, my subordinate, Dr. Spencer Reid's mother is currently an in-patient there. Her name is Diana Reid. I have reason to believe she was contacted by a potentially dangerous individual. Has Mrs. Reid's behavior changed at all today? Did she receive a phone call?"

The nurse was taking in as much information as possible in the hurried conversation.

"Agent Hotchner, you said the patient may have been contacted by a potentially dangerous individual… according to our logs she has not received a phone call today, however, in the file here it says she received a death notification."

If there ever was a darker color than black as a mood, Aaron Hotchner had just cornered the market on it. "And what exactly was she told and by whom?"

"Dr. Norman was told today that her son, Spencer, had died. Arrangements were made to ship his remains back to Las Vegas."

"It is quintessential that you put me in direct communications with Dr. Norman now. Also, has she been placed on suicide watch?"

"Of course, Agent Hotchner, is this the number Dr. Norman can reach you at?"

"Yes."

"He should call within the hour." The nurse said before he disconnected. Hotch cracked open the bathroom door, he suspected Spencer was awake, he was far too still in the middle of the bed to be less. Tight as a plank, the younger man moved only in involuntary shiver.

"Spencer…?"

Above him, Reid could see a spot on the ceiling tile, he wasn't sure if he was imagining things or if his delirium and fever hadn't quite faded, but as his heart rate hit 120 beats per minute, he was certain he was terrified of the dark blob as it formed. It bubbled, a slow expanse of inky darkness and he knew it was closer and bigger every few moments. He, however, was entirely unsure of where Aaron was. He didn't dare move or take his eyes off the thing, though. So he did the only thing he had option to do, he stared at it. Silently, he grew more and more panicked, the heart-monitor played an allegro before much more ominous beeps with irregular, jagged tempos played.

"Spencer…!" Hotch tried again, his lover looked ghastly pale, and the sounds that filled the room were ones he could readily recall as bad signs.

Hotch put a hand on Reid's wrist, Reid's head turned from the black orb to the source of the contact and immediately regretted it. As if the tarry substance was a molten-hot glass ball, when his eyes left it, it seemed to fall over him.

In an instance, all the outer sounds and sights of the room were behind a fishbowl, he couldn't speak to the muffled questions he heard, he could only sit there, participate only as a sedimentary object planted. His eyes ticked about, the room filled with people, nurses, doctors, Hotch in the corner, but every time his eyes glanced over he could swear at the edge he saw the slender man.

The words that hit his ears were only slightly alarming, he knew atrial fibrillation, while uncomfortable, was much less threatening than ventricular. His eyes raked across the room slowly, they were asking questions, stupid ones… Reid supposed he shouldn't feel like they were stupid, they were questions, basic assessments really. Do you know who you are, when it is and what's currently occurring in the world… hardly any new material. Then he saw the leer on one of the nurses, his eyes focused in on the name tag, the letters spun around in a nonsensical jarble as they spelled out all sorts of things he was sure weren't really happening.

'Hi, I'm the Slender Man.'

'I'm going to kill you Spencer.'

'And then I'm going to put you in my wall.'

'Next to all my old friends.'

'You can't escape me, I know where you are.'

'I'm watching you. Even now.'

Hotch watched in awe as Reid's eyes frantically categorized the staff in the room then locked onto one orderly, his eyes seemed to jump up and down as if he were reading, and upon living with Reid, Hotch had stumbled upon the sight a _handful_ of times to know what he looked like. His own eyes locked, he looked at the individual, he was a gaunt man, he looked more sickly than thin, and with hollowed-out eyes he seemed to enjoy the panic in the room, when Hotch caught him actually smile at Reid he had enough. "You, out!"

He took the orderly by the arm and forcibly excised him, he made note of the name before he shut the door. When he turned around, the nurses were giving him a collection of dirty looks.

"I am not leaving his side." He drew his badge as if to explain away any rationale they'd have to chase him out. It lost focus quickly though when Reid became apparent that he was coming around. Hotch realized his grand error instantly when he failed to take the likeness of the man and pulled the door open only to find him gone.

Within three minutes of injections of potent cocktails, some purportedly anti-anxiety drugs, Reid's frantic tensing had ceased, he had regained his ability to speak, though his rationality was still quite questionable.

"Hotch… the orderly …that was him… he's here…" his head lolled back in a drunkenly exaggerated parabolic arch while he continued to scan the room, his eyes were quickly closing in on themselves. "I don't want to sleep… he's here to finish me off… why can't I…"

His head rolled to the side, he was out.

"Who was that orderly?" Hotch shot glares at the staff as if that would facilitate answers.

"Just one of the part-timers, Mr. Hotchner, you can't put any weight into anything he says right now, he's delirious."

"I take what he says with a grain of salt, but I still know my agent and he knows how to profile, it's a part of him that he couldn't walk away from if he tried to shut it out and something about that man made my agent focus, it might be mannerisms or it might be that he was somehow a witness or even a suspect, but you will tell me his name and have security hold him until my team gets here or you will find yourselves listed as interfering with a federal investigation, I can promise you that's not good for your résumé."

One of the doctors hit the page button against the wall. "Nurse Klein, patch me through to Albert, quickly please."

"Of course doctor. Is everything alright?"

"It will be. This is just routine." He gave Agent Hotchner a strict look then a pitiable look to his unconscious patient.

Hotch's phone began to vibrate just as a security guard stepped in.

"Excuse me, I have to take this, are you able to identify him for the security guard?" He asked the doctor who gave a curt nod. "Agent Hotchner."

"Sir, the unsub just turned on his phone. He's in the hospital!"

Hotch touched his brow, "Thank you Garcia. When?"

"Thirty seconds ago."

"Alright, call the others in, I want them here, a-sap."

"On it, bossman!"

TBC.


	4. One Last Date with the Devil

The security room was crowded with four disgruntled profilers on far too little sleep, a security guard who seriously prayed this wouldn't turn into a bear-maul because it looked entirely possible, and a part timer with Tourette's Syndrome who's tic was to give a very large uncontrollable grin, maybe even a leer.

Agent Rossi and JJ exchanged a brief look, what was Hotch thinking? Hotch leaned in slowly, he looked toward Prentiss then back to the orderly. "They tell me your name is Joey Slade."

Joey's smile tightened and went longer. If he were to be truthful, it hurt his face, he wished he could stop but he just couldn't calm down enough to do it. "That's me… you're the guy who threw me out at work. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Of course you didn't." Prentiss started, "Didn't Albert here tell you this is just routine?"

"Then why are there four of you?"

Rossi muttered to JJ, "Well there'd be five except then Reid would be alone and that's not happening…"

Joey turned his head to lock eyes with Rossi. "I didn't do anything wrong!" His smile was masked by a nervous rock as Joey leaned back and forth, his second physical tic that manifested with his condition.

"Agents, Joey here's a really good kid. I think your friend was mistaken is all… Joey couldn't hurt a fly." Albert said, sure no one had heard him, except maybe Joey.

JJ pulled back, "You're right, Joey is a good kid. Aren't you Joey? How old are you?"

"22." He started, "I'll be 23 next month."

"What do you do for fun, Joey? Do you collect anything?" Prentiss mentioned, she was just as aware of the comic books as the others.

"I read a lot mostly."

"Oh really? What's that?" Prentiss asked, "Novels, non-fiction, comic books…"

"I'm studying to be a nurse. I read a lot of prep books."

"What about for _fun_ though?"

"I… don't really have time for that… sort of thing. I'm studying to be a nurse, it's really demanding."

"So you never take a night off? You don't watch any movies?"

"No. I don't like movies or TV, I like music. I like happy music."

"What's happy music, Joey?"

That elicited a blush, "The kinds where the girls sing about falling in love…" He looked down, "I think Miley's cute."

Rossi gave Hotch a stern look. Hotch himself felt put out.

"Thank you for your time, Joey. I think we have everything we need right now." Hotch said in attempts to end the night with the least amount as trauma possible for the poor boy.

"…People usually get nervous around me because of my Tourette's, but… that's why I like the ICU. Usually the patients aren't really able to notice me. I'm sorry I scared your friend."

"It's not your fault, you just reminded him of someone. That was all, it has nothing to do with your Tourette's." JJ smiled and patted his shoulder, "I'm sure of it. So keep studying hard! You'll be a great nurse."

Joey smiled again, this time a genuine one, and blushed before he bowed out of the room.

Albert seemed intent to follow him, but before he went mentioned, "I hope you're happy. Picking on a sweet boy like that! Must make you all real big feeling, doesn't it?" Albert left, "Joey hold on, let me get you a cup of coffee."

Hotch was sure the others might have thrown in if he hadn't dialed Garcia first.

"Garcia, you said the unsub's phone is somewhere on the grounds, right?"

"Yes, didn't you catch him though?"

"No, it was a dead-end. How accurate of a fix can you get from that?"

"…Within a five foot radius." Garcia stated, she was already on the screen necessary to locate it. "Except if it's underground and has a crappy antenna. Then it'll be worse. Guess who doesn't have a high-end phone."

"Subfloor?" Prentiss asked, "So he's either in the cafeteria or the morgue…"

"Dibs on checking the cafeteria." JJ stated, and Prentiss chided herself for not doing so earlier.

"I'll meet you there." Rossi mentioned, he gave Prentiss a look, "Guess you get the morgue." He gave a sly smirk.

"You will get yours later, you will." Prentiss shot back before she left, JJ just ahead of her, they both knew Rossi was about to chew Hotch out, and as odd of a thing as it was to think of a subordinate yelling at their boss, they knew Hotch's objectivity was questionable if he had gone against the very thing he told them not to go against.

"Funny, I thought you told Morgan that Reid's a useless witness… so explain to me why we're using his testimonials to move forward on this case? While he's still delirious… I mean, I get it, kid's a genius, but that doesn't mean he can't make mistakes like everyone else. He's a genius, not a robot… and even then, I have a high-end coffee machine, they fuck up sometimes too."

"I was so sure he had recognition there, Dave. That kid might not be our guy, but he probably looks a lot like him."

"For Reid without corrective lenses and delirious. Next we'll be interrogating coat-racks. At least it'll give Morgan a chance to rough up some doors that are due."

"How I ever manage to forget you're an asshole sometimes baffles me." Hotch shook his head, "But I know, I wasn't nearly objective enough. I keep expecting Reid to just be his normal self again and to make these astounding leaps in reason that take us a day to work through collectively."

"Are we really so sure this is even a crime, Hotch? I know the bodies are, but are we SURE Reid didn't _just_ fall?"

"Yes, a nurse signed a sworn affidavit attesting his injuries are more of an assault than a fall, and I had a separate doctor go over the injuries and collaborate that."

"Next question then, are you going to start listening to the facts and what we can measure or are you still going to dote on Reid and ignore what you really should be doing?"

"When you put it like that you make it sound like I can't dote on him." Hotch mentioned with a casual smile. Rossi rolled his eyes.

"Fucking happy couple… I'll take that as a yes your head's back on straight and leave it at that."

"Good."

"Yeah, good. I'm going to the cafeteria. You might want to send Morgan to the morgue with Prentiss. Because honestly, I know where you'd rather be and the LEOs still haven't made this case legit."

Hotch's phone rang and momentarily he was caught off guard, the private number did not show up on his phone, but he answered it anyway.

"Agent Hotchner? This is Dr. Norman, I was informed that you needed to speak with me… I'm so sorry for your…"

"Dr. Norman, Spencer isn't dead. Currently he is in the ICU, but I need to know about everything that occurred in that conversation. What they said happened, what was arranged, who he said he was, everything."

"Wait… wait, Dr. Reid is _alive_?" Dr. Norman let out a shaky breath, "I'm glad… though Diana… this is going to be a very difficult event for her to understand."

"What… did she say to the news?" Hotch asked, and he was sure he had crossed several professional and a few personal boundaries at that.

"She said it couldn't be true and she'd believe it when she saw it." Dr. Norman laughed. "But I suppose a mother always knows… oh, right, in your profession you'd argue that wouldn't you?"

"I'm glad she didn't give up on him that easily."

"I can say the caller identified himself as a federal agent and said that Spencer was killed when a raid went wrong. He mentioned that the others on his team were also injured so he was making the death notification. He then asked which funeral home he should arrange for Spencer to arrive at. I put him in contact with the funeral home who often handles our patients until the Reids' could decide…"

"Did you contact his father with the death notification?" Aaron's voice hitched, he knew his lover would be none-too-pleased if he had to visit his father just to confirm his own life. Ideally, Reid wouldn't even hear about this little situation, though he knew he'd have to come clean once he was thinking straight.

"Yes, I'm aware of their family situation, so I offered to council him…"

"Then you have his contact information? Please reach out to him and have him call me in the morning."

"Absolutely…" Dr. Norman felt the air hang thickly, Agent Hotchner wasn't precisely 'warm' and he found it difficult to hold a conversation now that the majority of what needed to be said had been, though what he wished was said had not been. "…How IS Spencer?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the situation, it's still touch-and-go, but he is alive, and receiving medical treatment. As soon as he is physically able, I'll have him call Diana."

With that, Hotch disconnected and approached Reid's room. What he saw sent him flying through the room.

Morgan was sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the back of the head. Reid, half-out a window, and the son of a bitch increasing the fraction had him by the throat.

It was counter-intuitive to his training, but there was no way he could counter-act his direct reaction to protect Reid in that situation, despite what bodily blows he'd receive for it. His arm reached past the assailant to Reid, with a firm grip on his chest, he pulled- hard enough to send the attacker to the ground and Reid into his arms. He quickly pushed Reid to the corner and put his back to him, eyes locked on the man who had attacked him.

The sick bastard was leering, just like the orderly had, he had the same dark eyes and sickly pale skin, but it was clearly a different person. Dressed in a tight, all black outfit he'd expect a thespian or beatnik to wear, the man started to speak, laughter floated from his lips between prose, "Hee hee hee, Spencerrrr…eh heh heh heh… your mom knows you're dead…hm hm hee" the infectious giggle was nerve racking. "Hee hee hee…They're waiting for the body… Hee hee… Mustn't disappoint!"

"STOP TALKING TO HIM!" Hotch said, he thrust the man into the wall, the wall bowed and bent back to normal shape as if it were a trampoline instead of a solid entity, Reid thought, as he watched in silent horror.

He was dead?

"I put you in the walls… I'll share though, otherwise your mom won't believe… hee hee hee hee! Your dad does though. Hee hee…"

Hotch spun him around, the cuffs half-on the man's wrist when he shoved back. "I'm not done yet!" He shoved into Hotch, his elbow caught Hotch between two ribs but he didn't allow himself to flinch. Too much was at stake.

"I told you in there, in the pipes… I told you… You remember what I told you? Do you remember what was said? All of it, Spencer Reid. All of what 'Aaron' said too… you're dead… you're dead… Hee hee hee…"

Hotch punched the man in the jaw, the force spun his head clean into the wall and gave him the necessary leverage to cuff the bastard.

"Morgan get up! If you can hear me I need you to call the others in!" He couldn't spare the glance to Reid and leave the unsub the chance.

In a stupor, Spencer locked eyes with the slender man, "…I'm dead…?"

The staccato beeps that reminded him of the allegro and the atrial fibrillation played through the air again. "SPENCER- you need to calm down!" Aaron kept his back to his lover as he shoved the cuffed man toward the door.

He felt stretched too thin, Morgan was unresponsive, Reid was crashing, and he was busy hand-holding the fucking asshole responsible for it all.

Two nurses came rushing in from the alarm Spencer's monitors were sending off. They froze at the sight, "…" Mouths agape, the first nurse recovered first. "Julie, call for Albert, have him phone the police, and page Drs. Nelson and Rand."

She knelt by Morgan, certain she felt a pulse she approached her patient. "Spencer, honey, I need you to come with me now…"

He suddenly couldn't catch his breath, he staggered, Aaron's head turned sharp enough to make his neck crick in protest as he heard Spencer clatter to the floor.

The man in his arms let out a low howl of giddy laughter.

It takes far too long to get the bastard out of view of Spencer for Aaron Hotchner's preferences. The man kept his chant between giddy laughs, "You're dead… ha-ha-ha… you're DEAD…"

By the time the man is in the arms of the first cop on seen (and Albert), Spencer has been lifted onto a stretcher and pushed down the opposite hall as another team worked to assess Morgan, also now on a gurney of his own.

Hotch dug his phone out about to call the others when Prentiss beats him to the punch, "Found the phone, I am not ever playing this game again. Do you realize how gross a morgue can get?"

"Morgan's been hurt, and Reid's crashing. The unsub came after him- I need you and Rossi to head in with the police, this is our case until they have murder charges to stick on him. I need JJ to keep track of Morgan, and have someone call Garcia…" He hung up, his piece said as he rushed to find wherever Reid was.

He finally found him, thirty minutes later the staff had left him, his body pale even next to the pale blue sheets on the hospital bed. The entire room was resituated, his hands were strapped down, Aaron knew he should ask why, but that would keep him from physically being next to Spencer… he was thankful when a nurse followed in behind him.

"Sir…"

"Why is he strapped down? Is he stable now?"

The woman diverted her eyes, not like Hotch was looking toward her. "He's delusional. Specialists from the psych ward will be down shortly to evaluate him."

"_What?_" She hadn't had his attention before, but she sure did now.

"He thinks he's dead. When we finally stabilized him he was clearly disoriented and confused. Then he said he was dead and then stopped talking completely. He appears to be catatonic."

Aaron swallowed thickly.

He turned to face his lover, in his own mind he recanted Spencer's previous statement that he was smart, he wasn't at all! Had he been, he'd have realized Spencer's genius worked even in the worst of states, he had been completely right- hard to follow, but RIGHT. Right about all of it…

Hotch put a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Spencer, open your eyes."

"…Aaron?" He smiled, "I get it now… I'm dead…" He let out a laugh.

"Spencer, no…"

"…This is purgatory? But you're here, so it can't be… but the devil was too… I always thought Tobias or at least Raphael would show up in my mind when I went… but… no, just the last unsub… I don't even know his name…"

"Spencer, you're not dead."

His lover laughed as if from far away, "I saw the tunnel of light… I was floating… and now here, it's so clear where and what I have to be, I thought it was a dream, but I get it now… I died. That shadow in the ambulance… I'm…"

"You aren't, Spencer! You have to snap out of this! It's the delirium, but if you don't stop talking like this they're going to put you through a psychiatric evaluation!"

"You're just lying to protect me, but that can't be it… I remember it so clearly now, what happened… I died in the fall…"

"You didn't though!" Aaron wiped his hands down his face, he had never felt so terrified in his life- to see Spencer so in his throes of _insanity_… because that's what this was! The past three days…

"How could I fall that far and not die? I saw the ground…"

"Reid, you never fell. You're confused, he had you half-out the window, you were looking UP, we're on the second floor… and in the storm drains, you were pulled, you didn't fall. This is a trick of the mind, you're having a vivid hallucination, do you understand? I was never with you in that room- whatever he told you, that was a lie. I found you in the storm canals, I was never in a pipe, you were never in a pipe…"

Spencer blinked.

"There is no Slender Man, he's a MYTH. What you saw were the four dead victims of a man who attacked you from behind in the dark when it was raining too hard to see clearly, he wanted to make you suffer before you died so he kept you locked away while he worked to prepare a catacomb to entomb you in. We got there in TIME Reid, Spencer- you're alive. He's been talking to you through pipes to torment you for two and a half days. That's why you didn't try to leave- he'd have attacked you, don't you see?"

His eyes went wide, it might have been the strong antibiotics finally making his body take the turn, it might have been the knowledge his mind had locked away to decipher 'at a later time' finally get through that 'later time' or maybe it was Hotch's impressive speech, but whatever combination is was, Spencer's eyes regained a focus to them.

"…He told my mother I'm dead… he sent a BODY to…" he started to attempt to stand.

"Federal Agents are already waiting for the plane to land to commandeer the evidence for an additional murder. I've contacted Dr. Norman, he's getting in touch with your parents- they're going to want to talk to you, both of them, but I promise I'll be there. I'll take the brunt of it if they get hostile. I swear."

"Mom wouldn't get hostile, she'd just say the government was trying to scramble her thoughts. Then she'll beg me to change jobs. I don't… really know how I can dissuade her after a trauma like that…" He thought to himself, his eyes moved up toward the left, as if to construct the careful deceptions he could use to skirt the issue with her.

"Your dad though?"

His eyes caught back onto Aaron's. "What?"

"Your dad was contacted as well."

"Well he's dead to me! Let him think it!" Reid spat, the anger shocked him only slightly.

"Spencer… think about what you're saying. I know your relationship with him, I know exactly what it is- but, but he deserves to know that you're NOT dead…"

"Why? So he can google me? He can just google for my obit and when he doesn't see it figure it out on his own. Why should I have to reconcile over this?"

"You don't have to reconcile! No one said that, you just have to let him know you're ALIVE. That's it, I swear I won't let it be more unless YOU want it to be more."

He could see the cascade of moods shift, Spencer's eyebrows quivered, as did his lower lip, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Really…? That's all… really?"

"Really. I mean it. I'll be there all the way, but, your mom deserves to see you after hearing something like that, doesn't she?"

He nodded and let out a tight, "Uh-huh…" his voice almost wouldn't allow him to squeeze out.

"Spencer…" He paused, "Spencer when the unsub came here to attack you- he hit Morgan from behind. I need to find out if he's awake yet, if he's okay. Are you okay? Can I leave you alone for five minutes- tops- to check on him?"

"He hurt Morgan?" Spencer attempted to sit up only to realize his arms were restrained. "Wh… what the hell is this?"

He closed his eyes, Spencer knew he had to calm down, this was reasonably explained away. He had been a combative patient, he was delusional, because of the sepsis. Because of sepsis, not psychosis, sepsis. He kept a firm hold on that mantra and willed his body to relax, though his hands shook with fury and fear at the scenario.

He recalled only a handful of times when he had been restraint, rarely were those 'good' memories. "Get these off me, I'll stay in the bed, I swear but get them off. Now, Aaron, for the love of god get them off."

Aaron didn't even send a look at the nurse before he did so. He was quickly met with arms wrapped a bit too tightly around him, the strain on his neck like how Jack would get carried away. Spencer heaved a few fear-ridden breaths then released.

"Find out how Morgan is, then come back and tell me. He has to be okay… damn it-"

Reid doesn't voice the guilt he'd feel if something horrible happened to his best friend because of him, but Hotch was a better profiler than to need to hear the words.

"This wasn't on you… I ordered him there, and it's not either of our faults." The way he said it forced him to be absolved or to condemn Hotch to the same guilt.

He swallowed down heavily, as he tried to clear his throat, he lowered his head and started to let his tears flow, all of this had been more than he could contain and he just wanted to know Morgan was okay, he could work to fix the rest of the mess later, but he needed to vent and that required him to be alone. Spencer didn't need witnesses to his tears.

"Go. I want the name of the Slender Man, I want to know the name of the unsub, and I want to know how my best friend is… I'll be fine now, Hotch. Aaron, I'll be fine." He swallowed a little easier, the tears weren't sloppy hysterics, but cathartic, they cleared him, grounded him with a steely evenness that Hotch really did believe him when he spoke. Spencer would be okay. He knew that with absolute certainty. That was how he could walk out of the room for any period of time with his lover with such a pained expression still on his face.

Because he knew Spencer Reid would heal, his own tears a balm to his heart.

He spotted JJ, she was all smiles with Morgan, the two joked about jello despite the darkness tinged in both of their eyes on a topic they had apparently banned.

"Morgan, good to see you're up. How's your…?"

"How's Reid?" Morgan jumped instantly into the barred topic once Hotch was physically there. "The unsub- he didn't- did he? While I was out, I mean- Reid's ok, isn't he? He has to be… if anything happened to him- that I could've prevented…"

"He's alright. He's asking the same about you." He tried to smile, "He was worried about you, but other than that- he's doing much better now. Much better. It looks like his fever's broke… he's… himself again."

The three nodded at different intervals as if that was the best news they could have all heard.

"I told him I'd be back quickly with an update- what did they say?"

"Concussion maybe, but nothing serious- there's no fracture or any massive bleeding on the brain, just got hit in the right place for a TKO. I've got one hell of a head ache though."

Hotch smiled, "Glad it's nothing too severe."

"I'm glad I finally won a round for office-injury bingo. I play you and a head-injury every time, because at least once a year you'll take one to the head and get knocked out, the other injuries we all rack up though… they get hard to track. We don't tell Reid about it, it would kill the game, he'd come up with statistical analyses, then there'd be risks of people fixing it… and yeah, no. He's in the dark, oblivious to the small fortunes he's costing or gaining Prentiss and Rossi any given month."

Hotch shook his head, he didn't need to hear this. "I'll send your regards, when you're up to it, his room's 204 now."

TBC.


End file.
